I Am Part of the Resistance Inside the Trump Administration: I work for the president but like-minded colleagues and I have vowed to thwart parts of his agenda and his worst inclinations.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

King Donald
Embattled Ruler of a Western Land

Queen Melancholia
His Foreign Wife

The Royal Cap
The King’s Advisor

The Royal Wig
Cachier-de-Honte,
Gentleman of the Bedchamber

Pie
Aide-de-Camp

Act XCIV. Scene I.

King Donald
Traitors are all mine eyes can see. Foul
Betrayal from every quarter, every hand.
Who does conspire against our august light,
I, Donald, such a good and noble king?

The Royal Cap
Anonymous? Choad-choked cowards, say I
Come out and fight fair, so we may fall on you
With all our appetites and might, to rend,
Like starvling weiner dogs their snausages!

His Royal Wig
Who could be the hand of the dread deep state?
Who has dipped his pen in poisoned ink?
Does ghostly Pence seek your crown and throne?
Spymaster Pompeo, lich of whispers?

His Royal Cap
Forsooth! Thou do talkest like a big fag!
‘Tis no Pence, No Pompeo, the villain
Is near, a viper in Donald’s very breast.
Melancholia! This house ill suits her!

King Donald
Slander not my dear Melancholia,
You who seek to Make Dondonia Great Again.
Her swamp pussy is yet most tender and sweet,
And her eyes narrow delightfully tight.

His Royal Wig
Foul cap, work of demon haberdashers–
The Royal Melancolia is be best!
She is above all reproach, drag her not
Into the gutter in which you wallow.

His Royal Cap
To refuse my insight and fair counsel,
Leads the King astray from his truest friend.
The rest are gone: The Fair Hope, The Sloven Steve,
Spicey Sean and Preibus, Fucker of Rats…

King Donald
Squabble not my excellent courtiers,
We must unite to ferret out this traitor,
Find who did lay a’pon your king’s brow
This Judas Kiss.

PIE CALLS FROM OFFSTAGE

His Royal Wig
Harken, Hairpiece, something waddles our way!
‘Tis King Donald’s Courtesan of Kitchens,
The Intemperate Pie, who throws rank scraps
To the braying lap-dogs of pen and ink.

ENTER PIE, SINGING

Pie
Blackberry and blueberry
pe-can and quince
Sift the flour, knead the dough
Strawberry–So sweet!
Rhubarb–So tart!
Allspice and cinnamon,
Nutmeg and mace,
Cherry, ap-ple and peach
All go in the oven
To make pies for me, me, me!

King Donald
Ah, Sarah… so loyal and round. My Voice,
My Word made wobbly flesh. My Will, My Power
In a bright dress. Approach my sticky one…
Faithful Pie, always well-fed and so gay!

Pie
I never! Wait, what have you heard? Fake news!
Sure, there was that time in college… Fake news!
She was the RA in my dorm… Fake news!
Jesu did judge us like Father said… Fake news!

The Royal Cap
(to the troubled Wig)
How like a sow she must have snorted and
Rooted for that poor girl’s meaty truffle.
You laugh not at mine jest, dearest brother?
Why doest thou countenance darken so?

His Royal Wig
I have great fear upon me, my headmate.
Secret hand signals. Secret listeners.
Goode King Donald is but a simple beast.
I quail at the duty to keep him safe.

His Royal Cap
My night terrors are diffuse and ill-formed;
Like fingers of fog creeping in a moor.
No fears for our king, but that you and I
Will be unmasked as simple metaphors.

END SCENE